Jealousy
by Frigg
Summary: A pregnant Lothíriel suddenly becomes in doubt is Éomer still interested in her? Éokat, you inspired this so suit yourself!


JEALOUSY 

Lothíriel of Rohan looked at the spectacle before her; tears were swelling in her eyes and she could barely retain her anger.

Her husband was engaged in a, what seemed rather intimate, conversation with a pretty young woman, laughing and joking. True, she knew that he had not looked the way of other women since they had met, but that was before the pregnancy had changed her body, making her heavier and perhaps less attractive.

She had overheard several ladies of the court – none of whom she liked very much – whisper and gossip of the fact that some men lost interest in their wives when they were pregnant and sought company elsewhere, implicating that the king could be one of them, but she had never believed that Éomer would be like that – nothing in his prior behaviour had indicated that.

Although, recently she had noticed that Éomer had spent a lot of time talking to this particular young woman. Perhaps it was true then, perhaps he was losing interest in his wife – in her - now that he was on his way to get what was required of them, an heir to the throne. No, she would not endure this any longer; she rose abruptly, although with difficulty, and left the table only nodding slightly at her companion, Melia.

Melia immediately got up with a frown directed at her husband. Éothain did not understand a word of what was happening – except for the fact that the queen seemed upset about something and was leaving without her usual cordial greetings to all – and stranger still, without her husband, something which had not happened since they married. Now it was Éothain's turn to furrow his brows.

Melia caught up with the queen before she reached the door to the royal chambers.

"My lady, what is wrong; does the baby trouble you?" she inquired.

Lothíriel just shook her head, unable to say anything.

"Come, let me help you. You must be tired, it has been a long day." Melia tried to soothe her lady as she opened the door to the sitting room.

Back in the hall, Éomer's eyes had sought his wife, and he saw the two women leaving the room. He furrowed his brow; it was not like Lothíriel to leave without at least saying goodnight to him or to anybody else; something must be amiss.

He made his apologies to the young woman, with whom he had been talking – actually the little sister of one of his close friends, who had been killed at the Pelennor like so many others – and made his way to Éothain.

"What is the matter? Why did Lothíriel leave? Is anything the matter with her?" He inquired.

Éothain shrugged. "I do not know, Éomer. She just rose and left and Melia went with her. Presumably she is just tired."

Éomer looked at him. "Yes, this must be it. Otherwise she would have told Melia to let me know."

Éothain looked sharply at him. "You did not pay much attention to your queen this night, my lord? It seems to me that another woman had your attention?"

"So many wanted to speak to methis night, not only the young woman, I was talking to. Did you not recognise her? She is Béolin, the sister of Hardan, who was killed at the Pelennor. Her mother died in grief that her only son was killed, and her father almost succumbed as well; he has been ill for a very long time and is still frail. She has had to handle matters at their home all by herself – with the help of her father's men, most of whom were also wounded in the wars."

"I thought I recognised her; she does look a lot like Hardan. She looked happy tonight and you seemed to have a good time."

"Indeed. She told me that she had found the man that she wanted to marry; her father had agreed and they just wanted to have my permission – and my help." Éomer smiled.

"Your permission, my lord? Since when is it customary in Rohan to have to ask the king's permission to marry?" Éothain's face took on a quizzical look.

"Since the man that she has set her eyes on, is one of the king's guards. Did you not see that, you twit. He was standing right next to her." Now Éomer was grinning openly.

"Gerling – you mean that he is the one, who has caught her eye?" Éothain looked puzzled. "I had never suspected that she would choose him."

"I know he is not the handsomest man in Rohan, but he is good and true – and ever since he got back from the wars, he has assumed a certain aura. They seem very much in love, and I deem it a good and true love, similar to …." He paused. "I had better go find my wife and inquire what is wrong. Please make my excuses to everybody."

Éothain nodded and Éomer prepared to leave. He made his way to the door to the royal chambers, but was apprehended by Gamling, who needed his advice on a matter of some urgency. A roaming party of orcs had been sighted near one of the newly re-built villages and Gamling wanted to take out his éored to take a look at matters and to ensure that the village was safe.

It took a while to arrange matters, and by the time Éomer reached their chambers, it was late and Lothíriel was already asleep. Éomer stood for a while watching his sleeping wife, even in sleep she seemed troubled and he could tell that she had been crying. He could not for the world think of why, and he undressed quietly and slid down in bed beside her.

He put his arms around her, silently rejoicing in the fact that he had her – and that he was big enough to still reach around her. She gave a little mewling sound and snuggled up against him still in her sleep, and he put one hand on her belly feeling the baby move inside his wife's body. He smiled; he longed to see their child.

And with that smile on his lips, the king of Rohan fell asleep, still with his arms around his wife.

Early next morning Lothíriel woke. She felt the warm body of her husband next to her and remembered vaguely that she had felt him putting his arms around her sometime during the night. Well, at least he still shared their bed with her.

She remembered the itching feeling of jealousy from last night and the pain from crying herself to sleep.

Since she met with the young king of Rohan just after the Battle of Pelennor Fields and as she came to know him better, she had known that women swarmed around him like flies around a honey pot – but had also come to know that he had eyes for no one but her. Still, she had changed during her pregnancy – and what if ….. she had heard that some men came to loathe their wives when they were pregnant – and she could not know whether Éomer was one of them. Lothíriel felt the tears in her eyes again as she slid quietly out of their bed and stood looking at her sleeping husband.

How she loved him; her big, handsome husband, who at the moment was sleeping innocently as a child with his wheat-coloured mane of hair spread over his pillow. She did not blame the women that they were attracted to him – but she would tear out the eyes of any women, who attempted to take him from her – and Éomer would live to regret it if he ever was unfaithful to her.

Last night, Melia had tried to get her to talk about what ailed her, but she had just dismissed her companion after she had helped her settle down for the night. She knew that Melia had been worried, but she could not talk to anybody about this. She had to be strong – and after all, she was a princess by blood and heritage – and a queen carrying her husband's heir; she would get through this.

As if he sensed her mood, Éomer awoke – with the easiness of a man, who had been used to sleeping on the ground and being alert from the moment he opened his eyes.

"Lothy, my love – are you awake already. Did the baby keep you awake all night?" he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"No, Sire – it is something entirely different that keeps me awake, but you need not worry; I will carry your heir until it is time. Do not worry yourself over me." Lothíriel had not intended being so harsh with her husband, but she could not help herself. She picked up her clothes, hurried into the adjacent dressing room, slamming the door behind her.

Éomer sat up in bed, utterly confused by his wife's actions. What in the name of Béma had gotten into her? What had he done to deserve this treatment? He got out of bed and put on his robe, feeling completely bewildered, not a feeling that he particularly liked.

Lothíriel came out of their common dressing room and brushed past him without even looking at him. "I shall tell Fréalin to make some breakfast ready for you," she said, "I will be busy all morning; I shall be with the healers until midday, if you need me."

The door closed behind her and Éomer stood, looking blankly after her. What the bloody hell? He had never seen Lothíriel like this – usually her temper would not have allowed keeping him in the dark if he had done something, which did not suit her; she would tell him loudly and clearly – but now? Why this coldness? He had heard that women sometimes reacted strangely when they were with child, but he could not grasp what lay behind this sudden change. Yesterday everything had been all right.

He gathered his clothes and went into the dressing room to get washed, shaved and changed. He was due at a council meeting this morning, but he swore to himself that he would make the time this afternoon to get things sorted out.

When he entered the dining room, he found Fréalin waiting for him. The older woman had been like a mother to Théodred from the day he was born – and to Éowyn and himself when they had arrived at Edoras – and still acted that way.

She shot him a searching glance and then asked directly: "How did you manage to set your wife in this mood? Her moods shift between anger and tears; what on earth have you been up to?"

"Nothing, I swear, Fréalin. I've been very observant towards her, paying her every compliment I could, and until yesterday nothing was wrong." Éomer looked at the housekeeper with a frown.

"And your eyes have not been straying, Éomer King?" Fréalin's voice was strict.

"Of course not – what do you take me for? Éomer glared at the older woman.

"You know very well why, you rogue," the housekeeper said. "You have been like a magnet to women ever since the first stubble showed on your chin – and you have had your fair share of them."

"Fréalin, in case you have not noticed, I happen to be very much in love with my wife – and have been from the first time I saw her. And besides – I need not look elsewhere, I have everything I want."

"Hm," the housekeeper said, "aye, well **I **know that – but are you completely sure that your wife knows that?

Éomer had just sat down to start his breakfast. He looked up at the older woman – and suddenly it dawned on him. "Béma, I have spoken at length with Hardan's sister several times in the past – and perhaps I have ignored Lothy - but Béolin needs my help; Hardan was my friend, their father is old and frail and their mother succumbed to grief shortly after she heard that Hardan had been killed. She is like Éowyn to me; just a little sister."

"Quite, but your wife does not know that, does she?" Fréalin looked inquisitively at him. "Did you introduce them to each other? No, I can tell from your face that you did not." She shook her head. "Men – do they ever think? I suggest that you set this right – and soon. It will do the queen no good brooding on these matters, especially in her condition." At this, she cast a strict glance at her king and left the room – leaving her king confused and flustered.

Éomer felt like the biggest fool in the world, and if he had not had the council meeting, he would have stormed to the healers' quarters and tried to set matters right, but he could not; his advisors were waiting for him and he had to direct his thoughts on matters of state.

As it were, he was tied up in the council meeting for most of the day. They had had Fréalin bring them their midday meal in the council room, and thus Lothíriel did not get to see her husband at midday.

She had spent all morning with the healers discussing provisions for setting up a house of healing in Edoras like the one in Minas Tirith, and in her enthusiasm for this, she had entirely forgotten her anger against Éomer.

Now, when she returned to Meduseld, he was not there. She asked Fréalin where he was, and she explained that they were still tied up in the council meeting and would not come out to have their midday meal. Éomer had sent out Gerling to inform her that they would probably not be finished until late this evening.

Lothíriel sighed. It was not in her creed not to get matters settled, and she was still angry, but even so she decided that she would not let this day rest until she had had it out with Éomer. She would tell him that she would not abide that he had other women so openly when she was pregnant; most royalty had mistresses on the side, but not while the queen was looking and not for the rest of the court to see – and certainly not when she was the queen.

That brought the tears to her eyes again; actually she would not abide at all that he had a mistress – surely she had not denied him anything. Even now – in her condition – they still enjoyed ….. Lothíriel let out a sob at the thought. How could he!

She turned about and went to the kitchen to ask that a tray be sent to her sitting room and went there to sit down. She needed to think.

Melia took the tray to her; she had not been able to get her queen to talk yesterday, as she had just dismissed her companion. Afterwards she had talked to Éothain, who had told her about Béolin. Melia had noticed it as well, but as she also knew Hardan and his sister, she had not paid much attention to it.

But, now, thinking about it, she knew why the queen had been so upset. She, too, had had those feelings several times when she had observed Éothain talking to a younger, and not pregnant, woman when she had expected her children. In fact, she had just given birth one month ago to Éothain's first son and heir and she knew all too well the feelings of a woman far gone with child.

She smiled to herself; the queen had no need to worry. She had known the king almost as long as she had known her husband, and she knew that once Éomer gave his word, he would never break it. Besides she had seen the way, Éomer looked at his wife, even in her advanced state of pregnancy; there was no doubt that the young king of Rohan loved his wife deeply and desired no one else.

She decided that she would talk to the queen and at least insert the thought in her; afterwards it would be up to the king to convince his queen that she was the only woman for him.

The queen of Rohan was sitting in a high-backed chair, looking out of the window over Edoras. She was deep in thoughts and did not even hear Melia enter the room. Only when Melia touched her shoulder lightly, did she acknowledge Melia's presence.

"I brought you the tray, my Lady," she said. "Fréalin asked me to tell you that you should eat; you barely had any breakfast – and it will do you no good starving yourself or the child."

Lothíriel sighed. "I know, Melia – the last thing I would do is to hurt my child, but I could not this morning. The food just stuck in my throat."

"And why was that, my Lady? I know that you were upset last night – and I think that I might have guessed the reason." Melia looked at her queen and saw the sea-green eyes flash.

"Ah, and what is then the reason?" Lothíriel's voice had an edge to it as if she wanted to ask her companion to mind her own business.

"I suspect, my Lady, that the reason is the king." Melia heard the edge but as a true Rohirrim she did not shy away from a confrontation.

She looked at the queen, who seemed to shrink, and continued. "I did see the king speak at length with a young woman last night – and know that he has done so several times recently – but my Lady, you need not worry. The woman is Béolin, the little sister of one of his best friends. She has needed his advice on some matters; she is left alone with an old and frail father – her mother died of grief hearing that her son was killed at the Pelennor ….. and she is shortly to marry one of the king's men."

Lothíriel lifted her head. "But, but ---- why did he not tell me? And he seemed so at ease with her ….. and I thought …."

Melia smiled. "Aye, I know what you thought. You thought that the pregnancy has changed you so that the king would look elsewhere for company. But do you not know in your heart – and mind – that this is not so? Has his demeanour otherwise given you cause for worry?"

"No," Lothíriel almost blushed at the thought. Apart from the nights when he had been away --- and some nights where his work had left so exhausted that he had fallen asleep almost before his head the pillow, he had been as tender and as loving as he usually was – and they had found ways and means to make love without putting any strain on her growing belly.

"No, I thought not. Have you not noticed that his gaze is usually on you when you are in the room? But I do understand; from time to time during my pregnancies I have accused Éothain of everything ….. including sleeping with other women --- just because he had spoken to another woman, be she pretty or not, as long as she happened not to be pregnant."

Lothíriel blushed. "I know that I am being unfair to him ---- but we have been married less than a year – and I have heard stories, of men who came to loathe their wives or tire of them when they were pregnant and found entertainment elsewhere."

Melia snorted. "Aye, I too have heard those stories – some of the ladies of the court are quick to spread such stories. He loves _you_, Lothíriel – and no one else. I can see it in his eyes – and I can tell from his voice when he speaks of you – have ever since he came from Minas Tirith after the war. Now, my queen, eat and get some strength ---- and then talk to the king; tell him of your worries – and you will find that it is as I say. I believe that Éothain has already spoken with the king."

Lothíriel nodded. "Thank you, Melia – you and Éothain really are true friends – to both of us. Please stay with me and keep me company; I trust that Fréalin has provided enough food for the both of us."

"I should hope so, my Lady," Melia laughed – and sat down to join her queen. Soon the two women were happily chatting about this and that, and when Melia rose to go to her home to feed her son, the queen seemed to have forgotten her dark thoughts.

After Melia had left, Lothíriel sat for a while contemplating their conversation. She realised that it must have been her imagination that had led her to believe that Éomer was unfaithful to her – but she still wanted to confront him. She wanted to know why he had not told her about his friend's sister. She went outside on the terrace and stood looking out over her country. The wind was cold – and the sunlight very crisp; it was still early in spring. She patted her belly. "I think that you and I had better get some rest before your father comes; truly we did not sleep enough last night, now did we."

The babe moved, and she laughed softly. "Yes, little one; we do need the rest."

She went inside and sat down on the window bench – popping herself up with some cushions and a blanket. She had found a book, but she only read a few lines before her eyes closed and she slept.

And it was thus that Éomer found her when he managed to escape his council. He had questioned the whereabouts of the queen and had learned from one of the maids that she had retired to their rooms when she had returned and that they had not seen her since, not even emerging to have something to eat.

Éomer feared that she had spent all this time in the room, crying her heart out and felt remorse. He had brought her this grief just because he had not been thinking. He hurried to their rooms, but stopped outside the door hesitating for a moment, as he heard no sound from within. No, she could not have --- he flung open the door and found his wife sleeping quietly on the window bench.

He stood for a while looking at her. She looked so serene – almost like a little girl with her dark hair in one thick braid, which lay over one shoulder and with a book in her lap. He went up to her and removed the book and then sat quietly down beside her on the window bench.

"Lothy," he whispered softly, almost afraid to wake her. He took her hand and kissed it. "Lothy, my love. I need to talk to you," he said softly. Lothíriel's lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, slowly wakening. "Éomer, I was dreaming of you," she said, the sleep still blurring her voice.

Éomer could not bear it anymore. He pulled her into his arms. "I am so sorry, love. I did not mean to cause you any grief. I love you."

Lothíriel could not help smiling against her husband's chest. "I know that you do – but if you ever speak to somebody that beautiful again without telling me who she is, I will kick you out of our bed!"

"I did not think, my love. Perhaps I thought that you knew her – she is the sister of one of my closest friends, he was killed …."

"I know, love, Melia told me about her – but I would have appreciated if you had told me of her before – and perhaps introduced us, then we would have been spared this." Lothíriel smiled. "I hear that she is to be married soon – to one of your guards. Who may I ask?"

"Gerling. And they wanted to ask my permission last night – which I gave them freely. They seem to love each other as truly as I love you – and you me? That is, if you still love me, my Lady?" he said, his eyes glinting.

"Gerling? Yes, why not. He may not be the handsomest man in the world, but he has other qualities. He is good and true --- and he has an certain air about him." Lothíriel smiled. "Love you, my Lord? Yes, I do love you --- and that may bring me much pain yet."

Éomer held her closely. "I shall strive to not cause you such pain, Lothy. But on the other hand – with three brothers you should now that men do not always think before they act."

Lothíriel giggled. "So true; I really should have known. And I should also learn not to listen to the gossips of the court speaking of men losing interest in their wives once they have got them with child."

"Me? Lose interest in you? Never --- not unless you grow fangs and a beard!" Éomer grinned. "On the contrary, being with child – and my child at that – just makes you more attractive. Have I not shown you that – repeatedly?"

Lothíriel blushed. "Aye, my Lord. You have – but it could just have been your need, which drove you."

Éomer's eyes turned dark and he furrowed his brow. "If it had only been my 'need', Lothíriel then I might have gone to a whore ---- with you, it is more than just 'need' and lust. I love you – more than my life, I desire you ---- and I want nobody more than I want you. You are my other half, my soul mate. What will it to make you understand that, woman?"

Lothíriel looked at her husband; she looked into his dark, passionate eyes and understood – perhaps for the first time and thoroughly – that he loved her and that the love that he had for her went beyond mere lust. She understood that he loved her like a person, as his wife – as his soul mate, as his other half, and she felt ashamed that she had ever doubted him.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "You need do nothing more, I understand." And then she grinned cheekily. "But, of course, my Lord, you must understand that I have only taken you for your body."

Éomer looked at her for a moment and then he laughed. "Let me show you, my Lady that I understand that very well." He rose and lifted her in his arms. "Phew, you're heavy." And then he carried her to their bed.

Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, resting. "Umm, I still like your body," Lothíriel purred.

"I knew that you would," Éomer grunted. He rose on his elbow and put his mouth to her belly. "Hey, little one. Now I need your mother's help to get some work done. So be good." He planted a kiss on her belly.

Then he kissed her on the lips, and getting up, he planted another kiss on her shoulder. "I need to write a couple of letters and I need your help with a couple of other matters. For instance the wedding of Béolin and Gerling; she has got no mother and I believe that she would appreciate your help – and perhaps also Melia's."

"So – eventually you would have told me?" Lothíriel asked.

"Of course, only this has reminded me that next time I should perhaps ask in advance." Éomer grinned and then his gaze turned cheeky. "Imagine that a king has to use his body to persuade his wife." He was tying the laces of his tunic as he spoke, obviously preparing for a hasty retreat.

Lothíriel looked at him, stunned. Then she got her wits back and she laughed. "Now, husband, you get out of here --- and start running before I find something to hit you with!" Then she turned and put on her robe. "I will see you in your study in a little while, but do not feel too secure, husband, my revenge will come swiftly and will be merciless."

"Oh, I cannot wait," Éomer said as he left his wife, blowing her a kiss and contemplating what kind of revenge his wife would seek. He thought that he might have an idea.

Lothíriel looked after him as the door closed behind him. She smiled – and wondered what it was about him that made her forgive him so easily. "Probably love, my dear," she told herself as she dressed.


End file.
